


Gay || Iwaoi

by UnicornFlowers (orphan_account)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Coming Out, Gay, Kissing, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26065174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/UnicornFlowers
Summary: Iwaizumi is gay as hell.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 1
Kudos: 264





	Gay || Iwaoi

♡

Hajime Iwaizumi's coming out party happened in the middle of probably the most important game of volleyball he would ever play.

College volleyball was something else. If you thought high school was intense, you would be sorely shellshocked to play your first real game in college. It was just on a completely different level. And you had to be on your best game at all times or you were totally screwed. Which, for the most part, wasn't a problem for Iwaizumi. He was laser-focused and dead-good at what he did. But the problem came when a stupid thing called physical attraction came into play.

It was no secret that the ace was thirsty as fuck for the team's setter, but everyone just ignored that fact, politely pretending they didn't notice his stares or how he sometimes got a little too distracted in practice. It was more of a respect thing than anything else. Occasionally, they would tease him about his very obvious crush on Tooru Oikawa (who was disgustingly oblivious) but most of the time, they had an unspoken agreement that it wasn't to be brought up.

However, this culture of non-penalization for his rather frequent distraction went unchecked in real games. In practice, his teammates would remind him to get his head back in the game or snap him out of a trance when he was zoning out, but in a real match, it was all too fast-paced for anyone to notice. And that was a very bad thing for Hajime Iwaizumi. He relied on his teammate's steady reminders as much as they relied on him to be the ace of their team.

And even though he was an adult now, a fully-grown man playing at a college level, even though he should be better than this, fuck-ups still happened from time to time.

To be fair, this wasn't completely his fault. If that asshole Oikawa hadn't had the audacity to lift up his shirt to wipe some sweat from his brow, Hajime would've never gotten the chance to be so distracted by his toned pectoral muscles or sculpted abs. He wouldn't have felt his throat close up as he imagined what his best friend must look like with that restricting jersey gone and discarded. He wouldn't have gotten so side-tracked as his mind tripped over the thought of running his hands along that perfect skin, gliding his tongue down the crease of his-

There was a sharp pain in his cranium as a serve with enough force to shatter a brick wall collided with his face. Damn, he'd almost forgotten he was supposed to be receiving. Well, if there was any better wake-up call, Hajime had yet to find one. Seriously, nothing like almost getting your face broken by a volleyball to wake up from your trance. But damn, did that shit hurt.

Blood poured from his nose like a waterfall, probably staining the pristine court below him as he touched his nose and tried to get a grip on what as happening. It was hard though, with the sudden rush of activity. People swarming around him, his brain still half in a daydream, his nose leaking blood like he'd burst a water pipe or something. Paramedics were shouting at him, his teammates were yelling in the background, the crowd was going fucking insane because man, did you see that serve?

Really, the only clear thing in Hajime's mind was the image of Oikawa worming his way through the sturdy wall of paramedics that surrounded him, trying to see that his friend was okay. The setter melted to the ground beside him, grabbing his calloused hand and unconsciously massaging his fingers gently as a look of concern etched its way across his features. Hajime almost freaked out before remembering he was probably bleeding buckets because it wasn't normal for Oikawa to be anything but calm during a match. But Hajime didn't really mind it because, at the moment, he kind of looked like an angel.

"Hey, hey!" A sharp voice snapped Hajime from his trance and he glared in its general direction, not taking kindly to being yelled at. But as his eyes found the source of the voice, Hajime was annoyed to see that it was just a paramedic shining a light in his eyes. "What is your name? Do you know your name?"

"Hajime...Iwaizumi," Hajime shook his head, uncomprehending for a second until he realized he probably had to pass the concussion test after taking a serve to the face. This happened more often than he'd like to admit. It had happened a lot more in high school though. Especially once they got Mad Dog back. Damn, that kid was like a collision injury waiting to happen.

"And where are you?" The paramedic waved a hand in front of his eyes and Hajime obediently followed his spindly fingers. He could understand why they wanted to rush this in case they needed to take him to the hospital, but it was kind of a lot to concentrate on at once. It was like asking a drunk person to recite the alphabet backward. He couldn't do that sober.

"Uh, Tohoku University. Look, I'm fine okay?" He growled tightening his grip around the hand that was still slotted with his. As the initial dizziness from the impact died down in his head, he felt the burning sensation of embarrassment as his cheeks flushed and his body heated up. Normally, Iwaizumi was perfectly fine at receiving. Obviously he wasn't the best on the team, it wasn't his specialty, but he should've gotten that one. People were going to start asking questions.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen! I said I'm fucking fine!" He growled, trying to shake off some of the people around him in an attempt to get some space to breathe. He really was fine. Other than the concerning amounts of blood he was losing from his nose, he felt fine. His head hurt a little bit, but he wasn't dizzy or nauseous or any of the classic signs of a concussion. In fact, really the only thing he wanted to do at the moment was get up, take care of his bloody nose, and keep playing to flush away the embarrassment plaguing his mind with adrenaline.

But of course, he didn't get what he wanted.

☾

It had taken them the rest of the first set to get his nose to stop bleeding like someone had driven ice picks up his nostrils, which effectively meant that he missed half of the game. This annoyed Hajime to no end. If fucking Oikawa hadn't been so stupid hot that it could turn a ruler into a fucking bendy straw, he wouldn't be in this situation. If Oikawa would stop being incredibly attractive for one goddamn game, maybe Hajime could focus. But no, he had to be perfect. Perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect abs. Perfect.

So now he sat here in a blood-stained jersey as he swallowed a mixture of unknown pills to temporarily cure his headache and waited for them to take a break. Most annoyingly for Hajime, they wouldn't let him play in the second set because they wanted to "keep an eye on him" and "make sure his symptoms didn't get worse." He was convinced it was bullshit because a little headache never killed anyone, but he didn't have a choice in the matter. Which basically meant he was left to sit there and sulk while his team played one of the most important games of their college careers without their ace.

Hajime was snapped from his thoughts by the door opening to reveal, of course, Oikawa. Great. This was just his luck. And it only got worse when his best friend for too many years now sat himself beside the injured man and bumped his shoulder with his.

"Nice receive, Iwa-chan," Of course he just had to taunt him. Hajime just rolled his eyes, too distracted by the fact that, even covered in a layer of sweat, Oikawa still smelled like vanilla essence and the outdoors, to clap back. Sometimes it annoyed him that his best friend had the inability to be anything less than perfect at all times.

But Oikawa wasn't stupid (despite how he acted ninety percent of the time). He could tell something was off. I mean, they'd been best friends for years, he knew basically everything about Hajime, including when there was something he wasn't saying out loud. And the thing about having Oikawa as a friend was that he was going to find out the truth. He was like a detective when it came to drama. It was part of what made him such a good captain. He was incredibly emotionally intuned with everyone on his team.

"So are you going to tell me what has you so distracted or are you just going to keep up your little stoic act?" The setter beside him ran a calloused hand through his hair, messing it up in a perfect way so that it fell over his eyes slightly. Hajime Iwaizumi was almost pronounced dead right then and there, his chest tightening and his face catching on fire. All he could manage was to grunt in response as he turned away. "Okay then, Iwa-chan, but you know, I'm just going to have to keep checking up on you if you won't tell me."

Hajime grimaced at the thought. He grimaced more at himself than anything else because it sucked that he was actually in favor of that idea. But it was also problematic because, eventually, Hajime would break. He just knew he would. There was only so much one man could take. Especially from Tooru Oikawa who insisted on being the devil in the body of an angel. So, he just released another grunt before muttering almost too softly for Oikawa to hear,

"I think I'm gay."

There was a heavy pause and, for the second time in the past five minutes, Hajime almost died of embarrassment, his cheeks tinting pink and his face burning up at his sudden admission. That was bad. That was very bad. How can you backtrack from that? Just kidding? No, that's no good. You can't just come out of the closet to your best friend only to step right back in it... Although, at the current moment, he wished he was so far back that he could see Narnia because this wasn't going like he wanted. He didn't even know how he wanted this to go.

"For who?" Was not the answer he was expecting. He was expecting "what?" or "really?" or "are you joking or serious?" but not that. But Oikawa knew, not who, but he had known for a long time. He knew that Hajime got distracted quite frequently in practice. He knew that he sometimes turned red in the locker room. He knew that there was something off about his behavior the past few months. Oikawa had it all figured out. There was only one missing piece of the puzzle.

Hajime didn't say anything as he turned to his best friend, cheeks burning, heart beating loudly in his ears as he stared at perfect Tooru Oikawa. Perfect Tooru Oikawa with his hair that fell in beautiful ways over his eyes. Perfect Tooru Oikawa who had the body of a god. Perfect Tooru Oikawa who had girls tripping over him and the world's utter adoration. What was Hajime even supposed to say to that? 'Haha yeah, actually you're the who and I'm the gay who's hopelessly in love with you,' yeah no. But like I said before, Oikawa wasn't stupid.

"Me?" His voice was soft, his expression was undreable, and for a moment, Hajime's world ground to a halt around him. It was a very bad moment in which the ace was ninety percent sure he'd just ruined the friendship he'd spent years so painstakingly enduring and for what? What was actually, realistically going to come of this? Oikawa flirted with girls. _Girls. Fucking girls._ And guess what Hajime was? That's right. He was a _fucking dude._

Hajime was already internally freaking out at how close together they were and how his best friend was staring at him almost quizzically. He was already about ready to pass out at the painful pounding in his head and the lightheaded feeling that washed over him, and that was before Oikawa almost sent him into cardiac arrest by pressing his soft lips against Hajime's in a quick, light, sickly sweet kiss that tasted like sugar.

And it just got worse from there. Because as Oikawa pulled away, a deep red blush suddenly appearing on his pale cheeks, Hajime's body screamed, _more._ And his body reacted far faster than his brain did.

He pulled Tooru in, wrapping calloused fingers around the base of his neck and crashing his lips against Tooru's soft mouth. A wave of pain mixed with overwhelming pleasure hit him like a train. God, maybe he should stop being so rough with a possible concussion, but it was hard to gather the will to pull away when Tooru tasted like honey and vanilla. So he ignored the protest his of his cranium, rebelling against it even by kissing the perfect man next to him even deeper, sweeter, longer.

And Tooru Oikawa wasn't complaining. Because Hajime was deliciously bitter-sweet like coffee and dark chocolate. He tasted so fucking good. And he felt good too under Tooru's curious fingertips that explored his toned chest and muscular shoulders. He was warm and tight and the setter could feel every muscle move under his hands as he moved up Hajime's body...

"Fucking- Goddamnit my head," Hajime abruptly recoiled, breaking their lips away from each other as a sudden sharp pain filled his cranium. God, he really wanted to feel Tooru's fingers in his hair, tugging and massaging his scalp but damn, his head was still really sensitive. That would be his first order of business once he stopped having a splitting headache, but for the moment, he couldn't worry about that.

"Fuck- Hajime I'm so sorry-"

"Shut up and keep kissing me, asshole," The words left Hajime's tongue on a rushed breath and Tooru quickly complied, making sure to avoid touching his precious Iwa-chan's head and instead focusing his grip on his strong biceps as he gasped against Hajime's lips. Hajime, however, was taking full advantage of the fact that he finally got to indulge himself in Tooru, threading his fingers through silky soft hair and brushing a calloused thumb across the sharp angle of his jawline.

And they stayed like for a while, their lips locked in perfect harmony like it was meant to be that way. Just them. Alone. Together. So, in conclusion, Hajime Iwaizumi was gay as fuck and, god, hen never wanted that to change. 

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆


End file.
